America the Beautiful and Mother Russia
by pickingupstars
Summary: Collection of oneshots with Fem!Russia and Fem!America. The world would be a bit different...
1. Posh Party

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

So I was lurking in the russiamerica livejournal community when I discovered their discussion on how the relationship would be different if one or both were female. My mind instantly exploding with way too many ideas. So this is basically going to be a collection of Fem!America and/or Fem!Russia. Which means the ficlits are typically going to center around Russia and America and may be gen, het, or shoujo ai.

So, here's my first Fem!Russia and Fem!America, aka Vanya and Ally.

**Posh Party**

Warnings: Fem!Russia, Fem!America, shoujo ai

* * *

People, of all ages and shapes between the degrees of rich and having more than a million people could ever need, clustered and chatted in the brightly lit room that was once for dancing.

Russia surveyed the room, picking out nations among the people. Finally she spotted her target leaning against the far wall.

America looked beautiful in her simple black dress that held close to the curves of her torso, kept on by nothing more than an excellent fitting, and hung loosely just above her knees. Russia imagined it was the kind of dress that the skirt would lift when America spun. Most of the dresses the blonde bought were like that just to give her the childish pleasure of a spinning skirt.

Russia liked to think she coordinated with America well, even if their last conversation ended with America pouting instead of talking of dresses. Her dress was white, the neck ruffled and dipping low to show cleavage and the silky material hugged her hips and thighs.

Ukraine's scarf was safely at home. Russia refused to risk her sister's gift after she was doused with alcohol during one America and Cuba's arguments.

Next to America and almost leaning over her, was her date. A rich man that Russia had not bothered to learn the name of during their last fight.

Instantly, she disliked him.

Russia hated those who lived in a world of money and saw everything for their use.

Including her America.

America who smiled sweetly at the man in the expensive suit and who made her giggle at stories.

America who never noticed when someone was too interested and staring at her breasts.

Russia tightened her grip around her pipe and stalked over to America. "Ally."

America's entire focus turned to her and for a moment, the guy she had been talking to didn't exist. Her bright blue eyes betrayed her adoration. "Vanya." She smiled with a smugness that would have annoyed Russia if it had not flattered her more.

Russia could not be angry at her for the flirting, not when she knew America did not always understand the attention she provoked. "Would you go get me a drink? I am parched and Nataliya is stalking refreshments."

"Sending me off to face the dragon. You are so sweet." America laughed. "Do I even have to ask what you want to drink?"

"I think you know me well enough."

She rolled her eyes. "It's almost always the same."

Russia opened her mouth to retort but the business man interrupted her.

"Should I go with you?"

America blinked and then looked at him. "Nah. I can survive Belarus. Oh! What would you like?"

He named an expensive wine and America's eyes practically glazed over. Russia smirked; he was not impressing America and she would be more than a bit disgusted if Russia told her how much a bottle of that wine would cost.

"Alright then." America pivot turned and marched off towards the refreshments. Russia could almost hear the dirty cadence going through her mind.

Russia shifted her gaze from America—a difficult fete considering how her tight dress accentuated all her curves—to her rather pathetic rival, who was now staring at her breasts. Russia forced his attention up with a sharp thrust of her pipe.

While Russia did not hear the crack she was half-hoping for, the pervert's pained gasp and panicked eyes were almost as good. "One should be careful where his eyes wander, my friend."

He stepped back, hands twitching at his side as color blossomed on his chin. He stood up straight, trying to intimidate. Russia giggled; she had seen and felt wars in ways mortals could not and he hoped to intimidate her? "My lawyers—"

"Would be very confused if you tried explaining why you wanted to sue the Russian Federation."

He glared. "I—"

Russia tapped his chest with the faucet. "Will be a good little boy and find a girl who is not taken, da?"

He blinked and Russia put enough force on the pipe to shove him pack without causing much more than a bruise. Survival instincts took over and he fled.

America appeared at her side and Russia smiled.

"You know, anyone else and I would bust their jaw for that." America handed her a glass of vodka and sipped her own bright pink martini. She had not brought the man's wine.

Russia nodded.

"Will you just agree to be my date next time?" America asked, not hiding her exasperation.

Russia tilted her glass and gulped down the vodka. "Maybe."

She needed something to amuse her at these parties after all.

* * *

Mini-Omake

"So what is it like having a sister like that to defend? Must have to beat boys off with sticks."

Canada flinched, remembering trying only to get beat up himself and then America beating the shit out of his attackers. "Now adays, I just tell them who she is dating."

* * *

Hopefully you enjoyed this! Please tell me your thoughts and give me ideas...or maybe not *looks at what should be calc notes and instead finds Russia/America idea* You know what, give them anyways. Who needs calc?


	2. Late

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Title: Late

Rating: T

Summary: America actually has a good reason for being late for once.

Warnings: Fem!America, het, cussing, brief nudity. And this has not been beta'ed, so if you notice something wrong, please tell me so I can correct it.

* * *

America was late. That was not a new occurrence. She was typically five minutes late. All of the Allies had gotten use to that since she entered the war but they still complained.

When thirty minutes had passed and she still hadn't appeared, England asked for a volunteer to go drag her out of bed. Russia gladly volunteered. The chance of the dragging part being literal was much more interesting than listening to England and France fight and China curse his younger brother.

Her room had been easy to find in the barracks. She had a flag pinned to the door above the name tag "Jones." He could hear some rustling and cursing in the room. Russia frowned. He had been hoping to surprise her while asleep.

He knocked on the door. "America."

The sounds stopped.

"Silly America, I know you are in there!"

"Go away, Commie!" America shouted.

"We have a meeting to go to. You are very, very late."

"So?"

"I'm coming in!" Russia reached for the door handle.

Suddenly, something hit the door with a large _thump_ and the door's lock clicked.

Russia twisted the handle but the door did not budge. "That is mean, America. And I even came here to give you a helpful reminder about the meeting."

"I don't care! "

"America, you are the one who set up this meeting, da? You have to go. If you are tired, I could carry you."

"Like I said the first time. I don't care. And I am not going."

Russia shook his head. Did America really think a flimsy door could keep him out of her room? Russia shoved his shoulder into the door. The hinges creaked and then snapped off the frame. He and the door went barreling in.

America shrieked as the door burst opened. For fifty five seconds they stared at each other.

Russia wondered exactly how much vodka he had consumed since his first glass at breakfast and where exactly all of his bottles had come from. Had his younger sister slipped something in his drink? If so, he would have to thank her for this imagined sight. Maybe send her flowers anonymously. No, she would think they were from him. He would send them under their older sister's name.

America grabbed the cover off her bed and held the cloth up to her shoulders.

Russia smiled. America looked so vulnerable and cute that Russia almost forgot she was one of the most annoying beings on Earth. Almost. "America, I know that you are depraved, but I did not think you were this shameless. Have you been lying around naked all morning?"

America blushed. "Shut it! Someone else is depraved. They took all my clothing. I don't even have underwear!"

Russia blinked a few times. "Who?"

"I don't know! France?"

Russia wished he had his pipe. He had the sudden urge to beat a certain Frenchman with it.

"No...he would have stayed or left me pin up clothing..." America scratched her head. With only one hand holding up the cover, one side slipped. America turned red again and attempted to pull it up to her shoulders.

"Surely you have the clothing you slept in last night?"

America shook her head. "I went to the showers in my towel this morning and everything was gone when I came back. Even my shoes!"

"We still have a meeting to go to." Russia giggled.

"Well, I'm not going until I can get some clothes from Mattie. Why does everyone else have to be short?"

"Short?" Russia stood up straight and looked down the five inches he had above her.

"Huh. Got some extra clothes on ya, big guy?"

Russia shook his head. He had traveled two hours from his base camp. He had been caught up in playing games with the Baltics that he had forgotten his pipe and almost forgot his coat!

His coat. He could lend her his coat. But did he really want to share it with her? America getting her dirty capitalist hands on his coat and putting it on her small shoulders…her short blonde hair would just barely touch the cloth...his medal would rest at the swell of her breast...the split of the coat would reveal a peek of her long legs...

Russia giggled.

He undid the buttons and shrugged his coat off. His scarf slipped down a little. Russia quickly readjusted it.

"Russia?" America asked. She sounded suspicious.

Russia walked over to the bed and handed her his coat.

America stared at his coat as if it would rear back and attack. Russia giggled. Silly America! That was more like his scarf.

"Come on America. We have a meeting."

"Are you sure?"

"Da. We are late already."

"I didn't mean that...never mind. Give it." She snatched the coat from his hands.

Russia waited. America stared back.

"America," he said slowly as if talking to a child. "We have a meeting to go to."

America crossed her arms. She looked awkward holding up the covers and holding the coat. "Turn around."

Russia smiled at her and turned around. His smile widened when he realized the vanity had a small mirror. He tilted his head but only could see the sleeve jut out and then disappear again. Russia pouted. No fair.

"Okay, you can turn back."

He turned again. His smile widened to a painful stretch. America looked so adorable in his coat! The sleeves were too long and only her bare feet peaked from the bottom of the fabric.  
America looked down at the coat and sighed. "It could be worse. I think."

She looked back up and cocked her head to the side. "Huh."

"What?"

"Nothing. I just haven't seen you without your coat since the eighteen hundreds."

Russia looked away and fought the urge to blush. America said such strange things. "And I have never seen you in my coat. I shall make one for you when you become one with me, da?"

Something a bit tighter. His beautiful coat, meant for his wide shoulders, hid all of her curves more than her uniforms did. Maybe he should get her a scarf too...no. Russia would be too tempted to strangle her with it.

"Nice coat, but not going to happen. My jacket's better..." Her eyes widened. "The fuckers took my jacket. I am going to kill them."

"I will help you find them later." After all, whoever did this deserved a reward. Maybe only a few hits with his pipe before he killed them. "We should go to the meeting."

"Yeah. Need to grab some clothing from Mattie."

Mattie again. Russia didn't know anyone by that name; probably a soldier or advisor. Even if this Mattie was one of her own soldiers, Russia did not want America wearing another man's clothing.  
America opened her mouth to say something. Russia cocked his head to the side. America shook her head. "Never mind. Let's go!"

She marched passed the broken door and out the room. Russia followed and watched her careen into the wall.

"Damn it! Why is your coat so damn long Russia?" America punched the wall. The wood cracked under her fist and when she pulled her hand back, Russia could see outside.

"I do not know, dear America. Perhaps you are too short." Russia offered her his hand.

She shoved him away and stood up on her own. "And what did you grow up eating? Nuclear waste?"

"Nyet. I grew up on...how do you phrase it? Good, clean living."

America made no effort to disguise her snort. She started walking again. She moved with even less grace than normal, swaying with each step.

An insult was on the tip of his tongue but America glanced over her shoulder as she opened the door. "Are we going or not?"

Russia walked out the door as she held it open and ignored America's snide, "Ladies first."

He was silently impressed that she managed to insult both of them at once in one breath. America had such a _way_ with words.

Gravel crunched under his boots and Russia blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the light. Allied soldiers-of France, England, England's Commonwealth, and America-moved about the camp. America slammed the door closed behind them.

"I said the officer's mess hall, right?"

"I believe so. As you set up the meeting, I am sure you would have chosen a place that would have food."

"If you're calling me fat, I will-yeouch!" America lifted her foot to her opposite thigh. "Stupid rocks!"

"Do you need help, America?"

"I'm fine!" She shouted and took another step. She stumbled again. Russia grabbed her arm to steady her but she knocked his arm away. Russia couldn't help but feel some satisfaction when America lost her balance and fell on her back. The split of the coat opened just above he knees. "Ow."

A few soldiers stopped to watch the spectacle. Russia glared at them. America stood up, brushing off dust. Russia leaned down and slipped one arm under her knees and the other across her back. He lifted her up easily.

"Put me down!"

"We will be late if we wait for you to stumble and fall each time, da?"

"We're already late. And that was your fault!"

"Was it? Then I shall repay you by carrying you the rest of the way!"

America grumbled as she settled against his chest. Russia kept glancing down at her. Her pout was so cute!

"Hey, something's poking me in the side!"

A passing soldier stared at them wide eyed.

America dug through the coat pocket, tickling Russia through the cloth. Russia almost dropped her twice and he was pretty sure he looked drunk as he stumbled.

"Got it!" America pulled a metal container out of his pocket. "A flask?"

Russia shrugged. "I had no room for a bottle."

"So vodka?" At his nod, she unscrewed the cap and took a drink. Russia gasped; only he had drank from that before. Did that count as a kiss? America smiled at him. "Want some?"

"Later."

"Suit yourself." America returned the flask to the pocket. The action tickled him again but this time it didn't stop. Russia looked down to America's smirk. "I didn't know you were ticklish big guy!"

"You do not know a lot. Stop."

"No." She ran her nails across his shirt.

"I will drop you in the mud."

America laughed. "With your coat on? I doubt it."

"I will take my coat back and drop you in France's lap."

"Stopping!" She raised her hands to prove it.

"Good girl." If he had a free hand, he would have petted her head.

America turned an angry shade of red. "Shut up and walk faster."

Russia obeyed and felt strangely sad when they reached the officer's mess. He liked holding America even if he was tempted to drop her sometimes.

The soldiers standing guard in front of the door stared at them.

"Come on boys, open the door for us! Please?" America fluttered her eye lashes.

Russia glared.

They gulped and the closest one opened the door.

"Thanks!"

Russia still glared, turning his head as he walked to keep them in his sight until his neck could no longer turn.

"Hey, Russia?"

"Da?" He looked down at her.

"You know...well, I appreciate-"

"Abigail F. Jones, where the bloody hell have you been?" England yelled from the table. He was sitting next to China. Next to China was someone Russia did not recognize-one of England's Commonwealth Nations maybe, had he been there the whole time?-and then France.

"In camp." America pouted. "You haven't even visited me since I arrived!"

"I've been busy. There's a war going on, if you haven't noticed!"

Russia carried her all the way to the table. He set her down on the seat between England and himself. He was not mean enough to seat her near France when only a few buttons were keeping her covered.

"More importantly," France purred. "Why are you wearing a certain someone's coat?"

"And why was he carrying you, aru! Are you sick?" China eyed at her suspiciously.

"No! Someone took all of my clothing. Even my shoes!"

"Not all of it." The unknown guy, who looked a lot like America, reached from under the table and held out her aviator jacket. "Abigail, here's your coat-"

"You!" She climbed onto the table and grabbed his tie. "Canada, I can't believe you of all people would do that! I thought you were my bro!"

"What are you talking about? Let me go!"

"No way. You take all my clothes and then dare to show up with just my jacket? I am going to kill you!"

His eyes widened. "I did no such thing! Al, you gave it to me so I could repair the sleeve!"

"Oh yeah. Forgot about that. Thanks bro!" America hugged her twin to her chest. Canada blushed and tried to push America away. She didn't even notice his struggles.

Russia wished for his pipe again.

"Of-off the table Abigail!"

America stuck out her tongue at England before sitting next to Russia again.

"So does anyone have my clothes?" America asked and smiled. "Come on and tell me. I won't be mad..."

Her brothers and China paled and quickly shook their heads. Russia wondered if his coat had some kind of effect. People reacted to his innocent questions like that too.

"Great." She sighed and slumped in her chair. "Hey, Mattie, can I borrow some clothes off you? Cause I really don't want to go wandering naked until I can get clothes from home."

Canada nodded quickly. "Of course, Al."

"Why bother?" France asked. "You look very comfortable in Russe's coat."

America had a look of horror. "Can you imagine me going up to my Boss in this? I'd give him a heart attack!"

Russia felt disappointed. America looked so cute.

"Can we get back to the meeting aru? There's a war going on!" China glared at all of them. "Crazy westerners."

The meeting and the usual squabbling started.

During their break, Canada had gone to his room and had brought clothing for America. She had started changing in the room, pulling the pants up under the coat-France had made a comment about undergarments that got him punched by England-and then turned her back to them to put the shirt on.

America handed the coat to Russia. He took it back reluctantly and put it back on. Russia was pleasantly surprised when he inhaled. His coat now smelled like apple pie and vanilla and the faintest hint gasoline.

"Russia...your coat..."

Russia looked down at his coat and then back at her. "Da?"

"I just wanted to say-"

"Come on you two. Let's get this meeting over with. I need a drink."

America groaned. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Russia nodded. He was confused at her behavior.

The meeting continued until China finally got fed up with England and France's fighting and left. England had stormed out, claiming a need for alcohol, and France followed with a smirk. Canada had disappeared. Russia was not even sure if he had stayed during the entire meeting. (He had forgotten about him when he found out America and Canada were siblings and not the way France or Belarus saw that title.)

Russia and America were the last ones left in the mess hall. America was leaning over the table and napping. Russia was drinking out of his flask, giggling when he remembered America drinking out of it.

America woke up slowly, probably from the sudden lack of noise.

She yawned and stretched before asking, "Where did everyone go?"

"The meeting is over."

"Oh. Good. I'm going to find food. You?"

"I should be going back to camp."

"Alright then."

They both stood up and stared at each other. Russia should have walked away but he was distracted by the way America chewing on her lip.

"We should get going."

Russia nodded and turned to walk away.

"Hey Russia."

Russia looked back at her, ready to tell her to stop being so annoying and distracting.

America pulled Russia close by his scarf.

Russia blinked. "America?"

She kissed him on the lips. The touch was chaste and very short. She pulled away and whispered, "Thanks."

* * *

Far from the Allied meeting and hidden from the German troops, Poland carefully set a large sack on the bed.

"That was easier than grabbing from Hungary." Poland ripped through the bag. He pulled out several sets of uniforms, boxers, socks, boots, and bras. "Jeez. Does she not own a single skirt? I'm not the only one in need of new clothes."

* * *

It's weird how quickly I finished this one (three days) when I have so many half finished ones. I write and write but I keep writing new things and not finishing much. Gah.

Oh, anyone have a problem with the small title change?


	3. A Day at the Beach

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Title: A Day at the Beach

Rating: T

Warnings: Fem!America, Fem!Russia, Fem!Spain, weight issues, nudity, heavy flirting

Summary: Russia wants to go to the beach. America wishes she had her brother's hoodie to hide in.

AN: This was kind of inspired by Amicably Apathetic who suggested dieting, which I may actually get to.

* * *

"Abigail."

America turned away from the voice. She curled up around her pillow.

"Wake up."

America shook her head and stretched her arm over her eyes. Just because the sun was up didn't mean she needed to get out of bed yet. Today was Saturday and the meetings were over. She was so not leaving her pillow until noon.

Russia pressed a kiss against her neck. America arched towards her. Russia was pleasantly cool in the Spanish summer heat. "Should I drag you out of bed, my lazy little American?"

America grunted.

Russia left her neck and wrapped a hand around her ankle.

America sat up. "Hey, no need—"

Russia smirked and pulled her until America slipped off the bed. She landed on the floor. "Ow! I said I was getting up."

Russia giggled. "You were being slow and that was fun. You are so cute in the morning. So dazed and quiet."

"Then why wake me up?" America glared up at her and noticed Russia was carrying a large, yellow plastic bag. She was wearing a purple swimsuit, a white skirt wrap, and a broad-brimmed hat. "What are you up to?"

"_We_ are going to the beach."

"Beach?" America started to panic.

Russia held out her right arm. Her left arm carefully balanced the bag to keep stuff from falling out. America grabbed her hand and pulled herself up. "We are going to the beach. You promised me."

"I did? When?" She couldn't go to the beach! The last time she had visited the gym was before Christmas. America refused to wear anything skin tight until she could see the outline of her abs.

"You promised me anything last night." Russia leaned down and kissed her. "Don't you remember?"

America blushed. She was pretty sure she had promised Russia everything—including her copy of the first Superman comic and her top secret burger recipe—after Russia spent the whole day teasing her. Even giving her looks during the meeting and whispering promises during the breaks. And then when they returned to the hotel…

America pushed those thoughts away. She needed to find a way to put a hold on that promise or at least manage to avoid wearing a swimsuit. "I, ah, didn't bring a swimsuit right now!"

America smiled nervously at Russia.

Russia smiled back and dug through her bag. She pulled out a very familiar bikini. "I found this before we left. Your closet is a horrible mess but your flag made this easy to find."

America blushed. She should have chosen a black one or something else that would blend in with her lingerie but she loved that bikini. The left side was blue with stars and the right had red and white stripes. The bottom half also had the stripes. America managed to find a similar one each time an old one wore out. She never tired of stars and stripes bikinis.

"Towels?" She asked weakly.

"Already in the car. I also have sunscreen." Russia's smile melted into a sultry smirk. "I will make sure very carefully you do not burn."

America gulped.

Russia handed her the bikini. "You should get changed."

America nodded—what else could she do when Russia looked at her like that?—and ran into the bathroom.

"America?"

"Need to brush my teeth!" America claimed as she closed the door. She lifted her shirt—actually, it was Russia's shirt that she had put on to answer the door for room service delivery of an extremely early breakfast—and quickly put it back down.

She could do this. Russia would love her no matter what. America took off her shirt.

She tried to admire her body but her eyes kept drifting to her stomach. The skin was smooth without a single line of muscle. America moaned. "I should have gone to the gym after New Year's."

Then America had gotten busy with Haiti's Earthquake, Mattie's Olympics, the healthcare bill, Mardi Gras, the oil spill, the Stanley Cup…she had just been so busy.

Still, she should have found the time. America promised herself she would sign up with one of her armed forces and go to boot camp. That always did the trick.

"I am waiting." Russia called from the bedroom.

"Just a minute!" America slipped on the bottom and winced when she realized the knots needed to be loosened. America readjusted them and then put on the top.

America tried to smile as she tiled the halter. "Bright side: maybe my boobs got bigger."

The thought was painful; her butt always gained pounds before anything else.

"America, do you require help? I would not mind."

"Finished. Oh, but I don't have a cover-up." America looked at the ground. Their clothes were strewn all over the bathroom. They had undressed each other and enjoyed a lovely time in the bath. "Oh! Never mind. I have a pair of jeans."

America slipped on the jeans and put on yesterday's T-shirt. America walked out of the bathroom.

Russia frowned.

"What? I didn't bring a cover. So are you driving or I?"

"I have the keys."

* * *

America wasn't sure if Spain gave Russia permission to drive in her country but she probably should take it away. Well, Russia's driving wasn't that much worse than a taxi in New York.

She was pretty sure they reached the beach in record timing.

America spent the short ride convincing herself that only Russia and Spanish beach-goers would see her. Russia had seen and mapped every inch of America. Russia would still think she was beautiful in the light of day and without the heat of passion. Right?

Russia pulled into a parking spot, barely avoiding pedestrians.

America had barely opened the car door when a brunette popped up. "Hola América y Rusia!"

America hit the brunette with the door before she realized that the woman was Spain. "Jesus, don't scare me like that!"

Spain rubbed her side. "Lo siento. You're not dressed for the beach!"

America slammed the door behind her. "It's just under my clothing. I didn't realize we were going to the beach so…"

Spain smiled and grabbed her shirt. "Let me help you!"

South Italy appeared at her side. "Stop molesting people, weirdo!"

America pushed Spain towards South Italy. "I'm fine."

Russia appeared at her side. She somehow managed to look intimidating while wearing a sunhat and carrying a giant bag America usually associated with busy soccer moms. "Do not worry; if little America needs help removing clothing, she has my assistance."

"Thanks." America rolled her eyes. Russia was rather good at that. Too good at that sometimes.

Spain smiled as if Russia wasn't staring down at her threateningly. She probably had not noticed. "You two are the last to arrive. I'm glad you two joined us! I was kind of worried because you guys looked out of it yesterday."

South Italy started choking. Spain hit his back hard. "Don't die, my cute Romano!"

"I'm not dying, you idiot!"

America leaned close to Russia.

"You didn't say that the others would be here!" America hissed into her ear.

Russia giggled. "Spain announced this trip just before the meeting ended. I believe you were a bit distracted, da?"

"Well, that was _your_ fault—don't look so smug!"

"I shall help you out of your shirt." Her hands tugged up on America's shirt.

"Vanya!" America struggled but Russia managed to remove the shirt before she could get away. America crossed her arms over her belly. She flinched when she felt the softness there. Not for the first time, America wished she had her twin's invisibility.

Spain squirmed her way between them and wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders. Her feet probably weren't touching the ground. "You two are so pale! You should lay and tan with me."

France was suddenly at America's side. He snaked his arm around her waist. "And you do not need to be shy about taking off your top to avoid those pesky tan lines."

His hand settled on her ass and _squeezed_. America squeaked and shoved him down into the sand.

"Arthur raised you to be so mean, Amérique." France pouted and stood back up. He brushed sand off himself in a way that seemed indecent. "Why would you deny me something so _delectable?_"

America flinched at the last word. France _knew_ she gained weight. He always got touchier when she put on the pounds and then he started making comments. America looked back at the parking lot and contemplated hiding in the car.

Suddenly, Spain's weight disappeared off her shoulder and Russia molded herself against America.

"I am not good at sharing, France." Russia's voice was cold and America wondered if she had managed to fit her pipe in the bag. "Perhaps Spain will be willing to join you."

"She will not!" South Italy appeared. He cursed France and all of his sheep before dragging Spain away.

"I guess not then." Russia smiled widely. "Perhaps you should find England or one of your colonies to molest. You would not want to find yourself buried in the sand as the tide came in, da?"

America snickered. Sometimes Russia was far from subtle.

Russia grabbed her hand and pulled to an empty patch of sand. She pulled out two towels and spread them out on the beach.

America looked around. She only saw people she knew. "There goes any chance of anonymity."

"What was that, dear?" Russia asked.

America stared down at the two huge towels on the sand, the stack of three more towels, a bottle of vodka, sunscreen, a mini cooler, two foam noodles, and a familiar metal pipe. "How on earth did you fit all that in the bag?"

Russia sat on one of the towels with her long legs stretched out. She smirked. "Come and sit with me. I believe I will need help with the sunscreen."

America sat down on the towel and stared at Russia. She threw away her old idea of one pieces being for prudes. Russia looked gorgeous. The tight material clung to her beautiful curves and the v-neck of the suit stopped just below her bust, giving America an excellent view.

Russia was so beautiful. She was very tall for a woman and Russia sometimes felt self-conscious about that. America thought that was stupid. Russia handled her height regally. She was the most graceful nation America knew and her generous curves fit her body so naturally.

How could America hope to compare?

Russia tossed her the bottle of sunscreen.

America squeezed a dollop onto her hand and leaned over Russia.

America playfully started with her nose. Russia glared at her, cross-eyed. America laughed and carefully spread the lotion on her forehead and cheeks. She spread the sunscreen as light as possible over Russia's scarred neck. Her hands worked their way down and gently rubbed the sunscreen across the exposed areas of Russia's chest. America grinned up at her. "Wouldn't want to burn these."

"No." Russia's smirk was lazy, like a cat basking in the sun.

America put more lotion in her hands and massaged it into Russia's arms. Then she traced down Russia's sides with her clean knuckles and put more lotion onto her legs. When America finally reached her ankles, she sat back, completely satisfied.

Russia stared at her. Her purple eyes were dark.

"Your back?" America asked. Her voice was husky.

"My hair would stick to it." Russia took off her hat and shook her hair free.

America stopped breathing for a moment.

Russia took the sunscreen from her hand. "It is my turn now, da?"

"Huh?" America asked, dazed.

"Come here. You need lotion too."

"Um, how about I just put the shirt back on? I don't think I want to swim today."

"I want to have fun, _A-me-ri-ca_." Russia pulled America to straddle her. She started on her back below her bikini. America gasped at her cool hands. She started to relax into her lover's touch.

Then Russia moved to her stomach. America tried to relax, she really did. But the feeling of the skin shifting with Russia's touch, so different than muscle, made her feel sick.

America pulled away and fell off of Russia's lap.

"Abigail?"

"Sorry! I'm..ah…going to find a bathroom!" America practically ran away with her arms covering her stomach.

America finally slowed down when she was certain Russia could not see her. She looked over her shoulder. Guilt gnawed at her. She should probably go back and apologize to Russia for acting funny but she really did not want to explain. Russia probably had already noticed and was just not mentioning the weight. Probably annoyed that America stopped going to the gym and let herself go.

A heavy weight crashed into her. America barely managed to hold herself up while legs wrapped around her waist and arms around her neck. Her assailant yelled in her ear. "Surprise attack!"

America paused for a moment, recognizing Prussia's voice and antics. Then she thrust her elbow back, hitting his ribs. "You already attacked me, you idiot!"

"I couldn't yell that _before_. That would be stupid." Prussia cackled. His laughter sounded like a villain in a horror movie. "I claim this country in the name of the Greatest Nation—"

America leaned back. She purposely fell backwards and landed hard on Prussia.

"Gah! I have taught you well."

"Nope." America hit her head back only hard enough to hurt. She didn't want to break his nose while the appendage was so close to her hair. "I'm just more awesome than you."

"No way!" Prussia shouted but removed his arms from her neck to check his face.

America stood up and brushed herself off.

Prussia sat up in the sand. "Man, you are getting heavy America."

America froze and stared down at Prussia. "What?"

"You're not exactly _light_ anymore, girl. Maybe a few less hamburgers?"

America kicked him in the side and started walking back in the direction she came from. She was so going to hide in the car. If she ran into France again or England, her day would be ruined.

She managed to avoid Russia on the beach. Russia probably had gone into the water.

America crossed onto the parking lot and groaned. "What kind of car did we rent again?" She asked the sky.

She got no answer.

America walked down the aisle and looked for something familiar.

Finally, she spotted Russia's giant yellow beach bag. "Yes!"

And Russia leaning against the small car.

"Oh. Hi."

Russia sighed. "What have I done?"

America blinked several times. "Huh?"

"You do not want to stay by me. I do not understand. What have I done that keeps you from being affectionate with me?"

America closed the distance between them and grabbed her hand. "Nothing! I love you, Vanya!"

"You keep avoiding my touch. I thought we were fine after you helped me with the sunscreen but then you ran."

"It's not your fault!" America winced and squeezed her hand gently. "I'm just ashamed."

"Very well." Russia pulled her hand out of America's grip.

"Oh, no! I didn't mean that!" America leaned in and kissed her. Russia remained still. America pulled barely an inch away and cupped Russia's face. "You're beautiful, Vanya. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"We fight all of the time. Our people often do not get along."

"So? We're more than just politics." America kissed her again.

Russia placed a hand on her neck and deepened the kiss. When Russia finally pulled away, America was breathless. "Tell me what has you ashamed. If it is not I…"

"Vanya…I've probably gained ten pounds since Christmas." America said quickly and looked at the ground. "Can you forgive me?"

Russia's fingers dug into her neck. "What?"

"I know I am getting fat but I promise I will work it off!"

"You are not fat." Russia sounded angry.

"I am." America moaned. "Sorry. Like I said, I'll work it off."

Russia frowned. She looked upset, more upset than when America had to cancel a date because of work or broke a memento. "I am bigger than you. Do you find me unattractive?"

"What? No! You have lovely curves, Vanya. All my weight goes here." America poked her own stomach and flinched at the softness. "I just get pudgier and pudgier."

"Stop this stupidity, America." Russia stroked America's short hair. "Neither of us is at our peak but we are not starving either. I am glad the way we are."

"But—"

"If I thought you were 'getting fat' I would have told you so. And," Russia looped her fingers under the knot of America's halter bikini. "I would have encouraged more _exercise_."

"But we do that a lot already."

Russia giggled. "I am sure we could find more time for sex."

America hated herself for blushing. She didn't want to think of herself as a prude but sometimes saying things so bluntly made her a bit embarrassed. "I'm still getting back in shape."

"I said nothing against that." Russia kissed her cheek. "But you do not need to do this for me."

"I still need to. France _always_ makes comments about me fitting in clothes. And England's not much better." America made a face.

"I do not care what other people think. I want to see you happy and in those shorts you call daisies. I am dating a younger woman." Russia slid her hand to America's hip and pulled her close. "I should get to enjoy that."

"You do not mind that I'm not as sexy—"

Russia slapped her butt.

"Ack!"

"I will be the judge of that. Anyone else who makes a judgment I shall deal with." Russia smirked. "Justice shall be dealt with a pipe."

"That's sweet of you, but I can just toss them into the ocean. Or a wall, if it's Francis or Cuba." America paused and then laughed. "You meant daisy dukes right? You called them slutty back in the day."

Russia raised an eyebrow.

America laughed again. "Alright, I'll dig out a pair."

Russia held out her hand. "We should go swimming. I am not often able to enjoy such warm weather."

"Sure. Hey, when's the last time we went to Hawaii? We can find a _private_ beach."

* * *

**Omake**

Russia placed a kiss on a red shoulder.

"Stop that! It hurts!"

"You should have let me put sunscreen on you."

America looked away and grumbled.

Russia kissed her red skin a few more times. She smirked at each protest.

"I thought you said you were going to help!"

"I am." Russia said as she rubbed aloe vera over the skin. America moaned and pushed her shoulder into the touch.

Once Russia was satisfied, she moved to the other shoulder. And started kissing again.

* * *

Notes:

Special thanks to my beta curiousmarionette (mylittlepuppet on lj) for going through this and her lovely encouragements! All remaining mistakes are all mine.

Tehe, I got a comment about my use of "Al" as a nickname for Abigail. I did that on purpose. Sorry for the confusion! It's a weird part of my head canon for fem!America that she pretended to be a guy during her Revolution using the name Alfred and "Al" stuck.

Oh, and if you have any ideas/suggestions, I am open. I have lots of plotbunnies but they don't seem to be developing to a finish.

Thank you all you kind reviewers and readers! Between you guys and finally getting a job, I have been so encouraged to write!


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